There is a very dirty Southern Goth feel to this story. Not goth in the "I'm going to put a curse the girls who picked on me in gym class" sense, but in a gritty, grotesque way. No character is as grotesque in this story as than the grandmother.
On the outside, she dresses in a way to present herself as if she were a prim and proper lady. Yet is she a lady? She wears white gloves and very fancy, old fashioned clothing of days gone by. It seems as if she is in denial of the current state of things. How strange to get so dressed up for a road trip. In the story, it is written "In case of an accident, anyone seeing her dead on the highway would know at once she was a lady". Honestly, what good would that do her?
In actuality, she is very selfish, cold, and bitter. Her lovely clothes mask the ugliness of her personality, but not for long. She's using looks to mask her inner ugliness.
The grandmother's personality rears it's ugly head just about every time she opens her mouth. When the family passes a young black boy on the road, Grandmother wastes no times throwing out the "N" word and comments on the boy's racial status based on his lack of clothing. She again uses clothing as an indication of class and status; suggesting that he is lower than she. In her time, people probably used the "N" word right and left and she continues to use it as so even though it's not socially acceptable anymore. Once more, her ugliness is exposed.
The grandmother doesn't show any respect to anyone in her family. For example, she has absolutely no respect for her son, Bailey, by sneaking the cat into the car without him knowing. Interestingly, the grandmother's ugliness is being passed on to future generations. When the family arrives at Red Sammy's Barbecue shack, June Star comments on how horrible the place looks. The granddaughter is focusing on the appearance of the barbecue restaurant rather than the food it serves.
Throughout the story, the grandmother laments that there are no more good people anymore. An interesting lament, considering she is not a good person. She doesn't even cry out for her family until they are already dead. In the end, the grandmother is pleading with a murderer to let her go by calling him a good person and claiming he's "got good blood" and "would never shoot a lady". Her pleas fell on deaf ears and her not-so-good blood was shed.
Some people say that in the face of death, you remove your "face" and expose what you really are.
This is by far one of my favorite Flannery O'Connor stories. I will call her one of the most brilliant short story writers until the day I die. Hopefully that day won't be at the hands of the Misfit.
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